


Twenty-Four Hours

by SamanthaSoong



Category: Star Trek: The Next Generation
Genre: Cities, Clubbing, Gen, Museums, San Francisco, Shore Leave, Starfleet Academy
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-02-17
Updated: 2015-02-17
Packaged: 2018-03-13 10:19:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 964
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3377858
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SamanthaSoong/pseuds/SamanthaSoong
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Data finds himself alone in San Francisco while the senior officers of the Enterprise are on shore leave. He uses the opportunity to explore all the city has to offer… and to catch up with some old friends while he's at it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Twenty-Four Hours

**Author's Note:**

  * For [DataLore1](https://archiveofourown.org/users/DataLore1/gifts).



> Hi, I'm Samantha! I've been in the Trek fandom for a few years now, but this is my first fic. I just couldn't not write about Data any longer, haha! I'm a bit nervous about posting this, but I hope you enjoy ^^ 
> 
> Disclaimer: Data, Juliana, Timothy and co. are not my characters. As much as I wish I had come up with them first, they belong to the Star Trek franchise.

A blue beam of light fizzled into the hotel room, and a few seconds later, Data was standing in its place. He carried nothing but a Starfleet-issue duffel bag, and as soon as the transport had finished, he walked over to the neatly-made bed to set it down. The room was small, with only a twin bed, a set of drawers, and a replicator in the wall, but there was a balcony overlooking the wharf, and from the window, he could see the sun setting over the San Francisco bay. He didn’t require much time to take it all in - the vacationers walking along the pier, the dimensions of the room, the time it would take for the sun to complete its descent into the horizon - but he regarded it all with appreciation and a certain satisfaction. It had been a long day, after all (or what might be perceived as such, since the length of a given day would not vary depending on what commenced during that time). The Enterprise had returned to its home planet for new warp nacelles to be attached, and the senior officers were given a day of shore leave in the meantime. At first, Data had opted to stay and help with the new modifications, but upon consideration he thought he might benefit from the opportunity to get off-duty. Geordi was attending a conference on warp field stabilization, and Commander Riker and Counselor Troi were together in romantic Sausalito. Data figured he may as well take advantage of the city, too. So, here he was, ridding himself of his uniform and replacing it with a black V-neck and bootcut jeans. 

Data had never quite grasped the the intricacies of “personal style”. It made sense that one would be attracted to a different set aesthetic than another, and that different styles of clothes were worn on different occasions, but he was never able to forge a style of his own. So, when given the choice, he wore what was most pragmatic: something understated and flattering, that would not draw more unnecessary attention to his already-striking appearance. Data wondered if that might be considered a fashion in itself. “Not everyone can dress like Lwaxana Troi,” he thought.

He proceeded to the mirror to get a look at himself, and to find anything that might need to be adjusted. Taking a comb from his bag, he made sure his carefully-maintained hairstyle was intact. But, on second thought, he mussed it up to make it more disheveled. He was here in the city to try to do things differently, to “mix it up” (borrowing a human adage). His hair now fell in choppy layers, parted to the right, instead of pushed back. Regarding the change in the mirror, he felt pleased. Other than his hair and civvies, though, he looked the same as he always did, and always would: shimmering pale skin with undertones of honey and olive green, lidded chartreuse eyes, thin lips. There was a reason that guests beaming aboard the Enterprise frequently commented on his appearance, usually exclaiming “you’re not human!” as if they had never met someone of a different race before. 

Now that he was satisfied with his appearance, he was ready - but he did not yet know for what. On the Enterprise, he always had duties scheduled for him, tasks to be completed, experiments to run, people to meet, a cat to feed. Now, he had none of those responsibilities, and he was left completely to his own devices. This was still a relatively new experience for Data. After he had been re-activated by the crew of the Tripoli, he had gone to the Academy, then went on to serve in Starfleet directly after. That didn’t leave much time for… acting on impulse, or living without plans. 

Data was aware that this method of living was not unusual for certain people. Some even avoided situations where it was necessary to adhere to a strict agenda. On the other hand, it was near impossible for Data to thrive like that - unless he turned off his internal chronometer, of course. “When one’s mind keeps track of time down to the millisecond, it is not easy to waste it,” Data thought, as he pulled his leather jacket from his bag and shrugged it on.  
It seemed to him that “wandering aimlessly” and “letting life happen” was a very human thing to want to do, which is why he deemed it a worthy pursuit on his day - and night - off-duty. It was a well-documented pastime in the Terran music and literature he had been exposed to. He was now eager for the night to begin, and to see how his “experiment” might turn out. 

Hearing the hotel room door shut behind him at 68.3 decibels, Data sauntered down the intricately-carpeted hallway to get to the turbolifts. The doors slid open as he approached them. “Lobby,” he commanded, attempting to slouch to give the appearance of casualty to the two Deltans already in the lift.  
The hotel was brimming with people of all races and buzzing with the fifty-five simultaneous conversations he could distinguish. Due to its proximity to Starfleet Academy, this hotel was a popular choice for officers and tourists alike. Data did not stand out amongst the Vulcans, Andorrians, Bolians, and Bajorans which crowded the lobby he now cut through. 

Finally, he had made it through the crowd, and was able to leave the building. Dusk had just fallen, and the night was cool and fresh both in temperature and mood. It was inviting to Data, and he was intrigued by the sense of opportunity which he was currently experiencing. Taking a left onto the artificially-lit street, he made his way forth towards the heart of the city.


End file.
